


Until We Meet Again

by smarshtastic



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alley Sex, Angst, Choking, Fight Sex, M/M, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-04 21:49:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14029464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/pseuds/smarshtastic
Summary: Reaper turns his face up to Jesse, a sliver of neon light falling across familiar features half-covered by his hood. Jesse feels the air go out of his lungs likes he’s been punched. His step falters.For what it’s worth, the man who looks back at him looks similarly shocked.---Jesse makes a habit of meeting Reaper in strange places.





	Until We Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! It's been awhile! Here's that McReaper alley sex I've been meaning to write for ages and finally got around to actually writing. I accidentally made it sad, so I'm gonna go back to chipping away at my Westworld AU now... 
> 
> Super big thanks to [fabrega]() for the excellent beta work, as always ♥
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](https://wictorwictor.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/smarshtastic)!

Jesse stands just inside the entrance to the alley, the brim of his hat pulled low over his face to keep the neon lights from the street out of his eyes. He keeps to the shadows, letting the darkness between violently colored lights envelop him. Only the glow of the end of his cigarillo gives him away. He chews on it as he tries to quell the anxious voice in the back of his head. 

He shouldn’t be here - he knows this. His heart is thumping against the inside of his ribs, an urgent tattoo telling him to turn and run. But he’s come this far: he has to know. 

Jesse takes a deep drag from the cigarillo. He holds the smoke on his tongue before he lets it out slowly. It doesn’t help soothe his nerves. He either has to do this or not. Jesse takes a final pull and then drops the cigarillo to the ground. He stubs it out under the toe of his boot and turns to walk down the alley. 

A dark shape appears out of nowhere and crashes into Jesse. He registers suffocating smoke as his head collides with the brick wall. It shouldn’t be as substantial as it is but -

“You,” Jesse hisses, shaking his head as if to clear it. Reaper goes for Jesse’s throat but Jesse ducks down so his fist connects with the brick. Jesse scrambles to get of his reach but Reaper grabs him by the back of his shirt. He kicks backwards, fingers reaching for his revolver. His attacker slams his hand against the wall, sending Peacekeeper clattering to the dirty alley floor. Jesse grunts and rips his hand out of Reaper’s grip. He spins on the spot and throws a wild punch. It connects with Reaper’s jaw, sending him stumbling a step or two backwards.

Instead of running like he should, Jesse advances on the shadowy figure. He has to know. 

Reaper turns his face up to Jesse, a sliver of neon light falling across familiar features half-covered by his hood. Jesse feels the air go out of his lungs likes he’s been punched. His step falters. 

For what it’s worth, the man who looks back at him looks similarly shocked. 

“You,” Reaper says. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Me?” Jesse barks, with a slightly crazed laugh. “You  _ exploded. _ ”

Reaper’s brow knits together briefly, confusion flitting across his face. Suddenly, he lunges at Jesse again. 

Jesse goes down to the grimy floor, jaw connecting with dirty, wet concrete. His hat goes skidding away. He feels Reaper’s knee press into the small of his back and then one hand fists in his hair, yanking his head up sharply, the other pinning his hands. 

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Reaper growls into Jesse’s ear. 

“Yeah, well, hasn’t taken.”

Reaper pushes down on Jesse’s head hard. Jesse tastes blood in his mouth, his eyes stinging with tears as his nose throbs. He turns his head to the side as best as he can to spit blood. 

“Fuck you,” Jesse says. Reaper growls and he tugs Jesse’s head up and back again. Jesse manages to get a leg underneath him - it’s enough leverage to buck Reaper off him. Caught off guard, Reaper tumbles to the side. Jesse scrambles up and stomps down hard on Reaper’s chest. To his horror, Reaper dissolves into smoke underneath him. Jesse pitches forward, unsteady on his feet, but the smoke reforms, enveloping him and then slamming him back against the alley wall. When Jesse manages to blink the stars out of his eyes again, he is face to face with Reaper and he can’t deny it any longer: it’s Gabriel Reyes snarling at him from under the hood. His face looks like it’s coming apart at the seams, oozing a viscous, dark smoke - but it’s him. “You  _ died. _ ”

“I survived,” Reaper growls. Tendrils of smoke reach for Jesse’s neck from under his hood. The smoke wraps around his neck, substantial and unrelenting, choking Jesse as Reaper’s words become harsher. “You left me to die and then  _ you _ died.”

Jesse coughs, trying not to let the limited oxygen send him into a panic. 

“I didn’t -”

“You  _ left _ me,” Reaper bellows, bringing his scarred face close to Jesse’s, his eyes flashing red. Jesse shakes his head as much as he can in the smoky grip. 

“Didn’t die,” he chokes out. His head spins from the lack of air. 

Reaper scans Jesse’s face, the grip around Jesse’s neck loosening slightly. Jesse takes the opportunity to kick out. If his foot connects with anything, it doesn’t faze Reaper. The smoke around him solidifies and shoves him hard against the alley wall yet again. The back of Jesse’s head cracks against the brick. 

“‘S it really you?” he slurs, eyes going unfocused. He’s struggling to keep his wits about him even as his consciousness is threatening to slip away. 

“I should be asking you the same question,” Reaper says. 

Jesse doesn’t know what he should say - Reaper’s not making any sense, and Jesse’s oxygen-deprived brain is having a hard time keeping up. But the face that’s glowering at him looks so much like how he remembers Gabe’s that Jesse can’t shake the thought that Reaper might actually, really be him. 

Jesse tilts his head in Reaper’s grip, leaning forward as much as he can to press a kiss to his torn up lips. 

Reaper jerks away, slamming Jesse back against the wall. Jesse doesn’t resist this time. 

“‘Sreally you, isn’t it?” he asks. He feels the smoky tendrils around his throat loosen slightly as a strange expression flits over Reaper’s scarred face. Jesse sucks in a ragged lungful of air. 

“They told me you were dead,” Reaper says. “They showed me -”

“Well, we were both wrong,” Jesse says, his vision clearing with another breath. Reaper’s face darkens again. 

“You left me,” he says. 

Jesse lifts his shoulders in a shrug. What can he say? Reaper’s not wrong. 

He doesn’t expect Reaper to lunge forward and crush his mouth against Jesse’s. 

It’s not tender - it’s brutal, all edges and white-hot anger. Reaper’s teeth click against Jesse’s then scrape at his lips. Their noses bump together, making Jesse wince and a fresh trickle of blood dribble down over his mouth. It doesn’t deter Reaper, though. His mouth is oddly cold; when he forces his tongue into Jesse’s mouth, it’s heavy and cold and wet.  

The twisted thing, though, is Jesse wants it, desperately. His own mouth falls open to let Reaper take what he needs. He owes Reaper at least that much. He’s still pinned against the wall so he can’t reach out and grab at him like he wants to - to feel the solidity of Reaper’s body under his hands, to reassure himself that this is real, that it’s actually happening. 

He missed this. 

Reaper surrounds and envelopes him, his mouth sliding against Jesse’s with an obvious desperation of his own. His grip around Jesse slips, but only to hold him differently; he presses Jesse’s body against his, still too tight, nearly choking the breath out of him. Jesse gasps against Reaper’s lips. 

“Fuck me,” he manages to say before he can think better of it. He feels Reaper go stiff against him. In the next moment, though, Reaper spins Jesse around so his front is shoved up against the alley wall. Jesse hisses through his teeth as his cheek scrapes against the rough brick. One of Reaper’s hands presses between his shoulder blades, the other going for Jesse’s waistband. Jesse cants his hips back and squeezes his eyes closed. He’s waiting to wake up from this dream - surely this can’t really be happening.

Reaper yanks down the back of his jeans and cool air skates over Jesse’s bare ass. The hand between his shoulder blade slips down his back and then he feels the clawed gloves spreading his cheeks apart. He hears Reaper spit, then cold saliva drips over his hole. Jesse shoves his hips back further and presses his forehead against the wall. Something cool and blunt pushes against his hole, thicker than he expects. Jesse turns his head a little to look over his shoulder, but Reaper doesn’t give Jesse a moment to adjust. He thrusts into Jesse hard, not enough saliva to ease the way. Jesse cries out against the wall, screwing his eyes shut and pushing back to meet Reaper’s hips. It’s too much and not enough all at once - Reaper’s cock feels huge without enough slick, splitting Jesse open, fucking into him with abandon. It feels oddly cool at first, but as Reaper thrusts into him his dick takes on the temperature of Jesse’s body, the initial cool sensation fading so that Jesse isn’t sure if he imagined it in the first place. 

Under the edge of pain, though, Jesse feels something else: a familiarity that’s painful in an entirely different way. Jesse keeps his eyes shut tight, Reaper’s face -  _ Gabe’s _ face - hovering behind his eyelids. Jesse never let himself imagine what a reunion between them would be like, but this seems appropriately painful. 

In spite of it all, Jesse keeps shoving his hips back to meet Reaper’s thrusts. His cock is trapped in the front of his pants, hard and leaking in his underwear, each sharp thrust making another drop of precome bead on the tip. He’s moaning, low and deep in his chest, his cheek scraping against the brick wall. 

“Please, please,” Jesse pants. “Don’t stop. Don’t you fuckin’ stop -”

Behind him, Reaper growls. He lets go of Jesse’s hip with one hand and wraps it around his throat instead. Jesse gasps. The clawed fingers of Reaper’s gloved hand dig into Jesse’s skin as Reaper squeezes, once again depriving Jesse of oxygen as he pulls his head away from the wall. Jesse bucks wildly, his hips jerking back against Reaper’s, his cock aching to be touched. Reaper fucks him through it. Jesse’s head spins with the combination of pain and pleasure and lack of air, no sounds coming out of his mouth except desperate, choked off gasps. The edges of Jesse’s vision are going dark as his orgasm pools in his stomach. His fingers scrabble against the wall, the metal digits of his left hand sending crumbles of brick down to the alley floor. 

Reaper thrusts into Jesse hard, as deep as he can go, his hips flattening Jesse to the wall. Dimly, Jesse feels his cock twitch and spill into his tender hole. It’s enough to set him off too, coming in his pants like a teenager, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, his brain threatening to go black with the lack of oxygen. Reaper’s hand releases Jesse’s throat as Jesse comes. Jesse sucks in a desperate breath, his knees knocking together as Reaper pulls away completely. 

He stays against the wall, feeling come trickle down the inside of his thighs. He’s not sure he could stand without the wall to support him. Jesse turns his head to look back at Reaper. His neck hurts with the movement. Reaper has already tucked himself away, rearranging his clothes as if nothing happened. 

“Is it really you?” Jesse asks, voice hoarse. Reaper lifts his head to look at Jesse again. Jesse can see the glint of his eyes under the hood, but his face is otherwise obscured by shadow. 

“You know the answer to that question.”

Reaper dissolves into shadow, leaving Jesse alone and exposed in the alley. 

=-=-=

It’s only a few days later when Jesse encounters Reaper again. The bruises haven’t even faded completely and the scratches on his throat from Reaper’s clawed gloves are still freshly scabbed over. He walked with a limp for the first day or two, a relic of the rough fuck in the alley. Jesse would be ashamed to admit how much he liked it; on scratchy motel sheets, he shoves two fingers into himself with not enough lube, relishing the burn of it. He jerks himself off with his eyes screwed shut, wishing he had Reaper’s hand around his throat again. He comes hard, seeing stars. 

Jesse goes back to work. It’s the only thing he can think of doing that will keep him busy and his thoughts from wandering. The encounter with Reaper unsettled him. He had gone looking for answers and only came away with more questions. 

Jesse slips between buildings under the cover of darkness when a thick shadow melts out of nowhere and drags Jesse into the narrow alley. Reaper’s gloved hands shove Jesse back against the wall, one on his sternum, the other at his throat. Jesse can feel the sharp ends of those claws again, scraping against those fresh scabs. 

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” Jesse says, leaning his head back against the wall, baring his throat. Reaper’s hand tightens around his neck slightly. Jesse feels his dick jump in his pants. 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s not safe.”

Jesse snorts. “I figure that’s the least of my worries.”

“Are you following me?”

“Is that what you want?”

Reaper doesn’t answer. Instead, he ducks forward to kiss Jesse, rough and deep, his tongue shoving into Jesse’s mouth as it falls open in surprise. Jesse moans against Reaper’s torn up lips. He lets Reaper take control, doesn’t put up a fight as Reaper’s hand tightens around his throat, making him breathless. He wants this, he needs it. He doesn’t want to let him get away. 

Just as Jesse’s head starts to go swimmy, Reaper lets go of his throat and spins Jesse around. He shoves him hard against the wall. Instinctively, Jesse resists, just a little, but Reaper’s clawed hand pushes on the back of his neck. Jesse’s cheek scrapes the wall. He hisses. 

“Isn’t that what you want?” Reaper asks, echoing Jesse’s own words, his lips at Jesse’s ear, his voice low and threatening. His other hand palms the front of Jesse’s pants, where his cock is already straining against the fabric. Jesse growls, embarrassed at how easy he’s making this for Reaper. He’s so obviously desperate. It only seems to spur Reaper on, though. He pulls at Jesse’s waistband, tugging his zipper open just enough to pull his pants down at the back. Jesse pushes his hips out towards Reaper, who spreads his cheeks apart and spits. Jesse shivers and squeezes his eyes shut as the blunt tip of Reaper’s cock presses against his hole. 

It’s rough. Jesse is still tender, and Reaper’s cock is thick and unyielding. He thrusts into Jesse hard, flattening them both against the wall. He presses his whole body against Jesse’s, his mouth against the back of his neck, only his hips moving in short, brutal thrusts into Jesse’s ass. Reaper’s breath - panting, punctuated by small growls - fills Jesse’s ears. He pushes back as best as he can, but Reaper’s body is heavy against him. 

After so long alone, the overwhelming presence is a welcome change. 

Reaper’s hand snakes around Jesse’s throat. Jesse tilts his head back, giving his hand room to squeeze. Jesse gasps as he tightens his fingers around Jesse’s neck. Reaper makes what can only be construed as a pleased noise and squeezes tighter. His other hand deftly frees Jesse’s cock from the front of his jeans. Jesse whimpers at the touch, though it’s abruptly cut off by another squeeze around his neck. Reaper jerks Jesse off in time to his sharp, short thrusts, keeping the pressure on his windpipe constant. Jesse lets his eyes roll back, giving himself over to it, his ears filled with Reaper’s low growling. His head is swimming, his vision going fuzzy. He’s close, his cock leaking over the dark fabric of Reaper’s gloves.  

“G-Gabe -” Jesse gasps, voice strained. Reaper slams into Jesse, flattening him against the wall with surprising force, making his still-bruised nose crunch against the concrete. Jesse sees stars. He feels Reaper’s dick twitch and pulse, but then he’s pulling away, leaving Jesse hard and aching, come leaking down his thigh. Without the bulk of Reaper’s body to hold him up, Jesse slides down the wall a little. He blinks dazedly. 

“You don’t get to call me that,” Reaper says, voice harsh. He dissolves into smoke and disappears back down the alley. Jesse slides the rest of the way to the ground, blinking at the spot where Reaper had just been, feeling an acute sense of loss. 

=-=-=

Jesse loses track of how many times he runs into Reaper, how many times he lets Reaper shove him against a wall and fuck him until he can’t stand on his own. He purposely puts himself in Reaper’s path over and over again even though Jesse knows it puts him at a huge risk. Talon has been breathing down his neck for ages now, and it feels like they’re finally closing in - maybe they’ve just been dangling Reaper like bait, using him to reel Jesse in. 

After everything, Jesse would probably deserve it. 

But Jesse can’t snuff out the glimmer of hope that’s smoldering in his chest; that Reaper really  _ is _ Gabe, that he’ll get a second chance to make it right. 

Another night, another rough fuck in an alley. This time, Reaper lets Jesse come, his hand working Jesse’s cock until Jesse is shaking under his grip, his airway cut off so Jesse can only make a choked, gasped sound when he comes over Reaper’s gloved hand. Reaper strokes him through it, relaxing his grip on Jesse’s throat, fucking into him more slowly. Jesse goes heavy, but Reaper holds him up. He feels his lips ghost over the back of his neck. Jesse closes his eyes and pretends. 

Reaper comes with a grunt, pushing in hard so his hips are flush with Jesse’s ass. He stays there for a moment, longer than he usually does, panting softly into Jesse’s ear. Finally, he pulls away, though one hand lingers on Jesse’s hip. Jesse turns, resting his shoulders against the alley wall, tugging his pants back up one-handedly. In the dim light of the alley, he can’t make out Reaper’s face under the hood. His head is bowed as he zips his own pants back up. 

“You don’t have to leave,” Jesse says, voice hoarse. Reaper pauses then lifts his head. Jesse sees the red-tinted glint of his eyes as Reaper looks at him. Reaper doesn’t say anything for a moment. “You could stay.”

“How do I know you’re not going to leave again?” Reaper says. Jesse feels his chest clench up. He swallows with difficulty. 

“Don’t you trust me?”

There’s a long, excruciating pause. Jesse feels something like a sob rising up in the back of his throat. Reaper is already turning away. 

“Not any more, Jesse.”

Reaper dissolves into smoke and disappears. Jesse slides down the alley wall until he’s sitting on the uncomfortably hard ground, the inside of his jeans damp and sticky. He deserves this, almost certainly. But it still hurts. 


End file.
